


Stocking Filler 4

by Persiflage



Series: Berena Secret Santa 2020 [4]
Category: Holby City
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Berena Secret Santa 2020, Bernie Wolfe Lives, Bernie Wolfe: Domestic Goddess, Bernie Wolfe: World's Okay-est Lesbian, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Elinor Campbell Lives, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Mention of Past Non-consensual kissing, No Plot/Plotless, Not Leah Faulkner Friendly, Serena Campbell: Bisexual Extraordinaire, Snow and Ice, Stocking Filler, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:20:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28069188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: Different First Meeting AU: Serena takes a tumble in the snow. Luckily, a certain Army Medic is there to assist.
Relationships: Cameron Dunn & Bernie Wolfe, Charlotte Dunn & Bernie Wolfe, Greta Haynes/Jason Haynes, Serena Campbell & Bernie Wolfe, Serena Campbell/Bernie Wolfe
Series: Berena Secret Santa 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2027821
Comments: 10
Kudos: 54
Collections: Berena Secret Santa 2020





	1. Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fortytworedvines](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortytworedvines/gifts).



> For RedVines (she knows why). She wanted something for the Stocking Filler prompt 'icy conditions' and the bloody Bitch Muse galloped away with this one. I have been writing it for DAYS! Ahem! 
> 
> Anyway, it's pretty plotless and mostly Christmas fluff, with a little light angst and hurt/comfort thrown in. Enjoy!

It’s the day before Christmas Eve and Bernie Wolfe is comfortably ensconced in an armchair by the fire in her Devonshire cottage, a thick tartan picnic blanket draped over her lap and down to her ankles, a mug of hot chocolate on the side table at her elbow, a purring grey kitten in her lap, and something seasonal playing on the radio as she reads the latest copy of _The Lancet_. She might be retired from trauma surgery now, but she still likes to keep up to date with what’s current in her former profession. 

She picks up her mug and glances over the top of it out of the window at the snow which has been coming down steadily since the early hours of the morning and is just in time to see a woman in an enormous fur hat fall over. She sets down the mug abruptly, scoops up the cat and blanket from her lap and dumps them both unceremoniously down in the chair, ignoring Smokey’s squawk of dissatisfaction. She rushes into the hall where she tugs on wellingtons and a waxed quilted jacket, before she hurries out of her front door and up the path, through the garden gate, and out onto the pavement to find the woman sprawled in the snow. Fortunately, she can hear muffled swearing, so she knows the woman hasn’t knocked herself unconscious.

“Hello?” she says, crouching down beside the woman. “Where are you hurt?”

“My bloody ankle,” the woman says as Bernie touches her on the shoulder. “And my knee.”

“Okay. My name’s Bernie and I used to be a trauma surgeon,” she explains. “I’m going to help you to move, okay, but don’t try to rush. You might have done more damage than you’re aware of.”

“Serena,” says the muffled voice. “Also a surgeon, though not trauma.”

“Okay, Serena, let’s get you sitting up first of all.”

It’s not an easy manoeuvre to pull off since they’re both bundled up in thick coats, but eventually Bernie gets Serena sitting up, then helps her up from the ground, her weight distributed between her left leg and Bernie’s shoulder. 

“I wouldn’t normally move someone without them being assessed by a paramedic,” Bernie tells Serena, “but it’ll take ages for an ambulance to get here and I don’t want to risk hypothermia while you’re lying in the snow. Let’s get indoors and we can assess your state, and if necessary, I’ll drive you to the hospital myself.”

“Thank you.” Serena’s voice is low and raspy, from the pain, Bernie thinks.

She manoeuvres them awkwardly through her garden gate, up the path and in through the front door. Then she helps Serena out of her hat, coat, and shoes, feeling grateful that there’s an old wooden kitchen chair in the hallway which she helps Serena to sit on before she takes off her shoes. She carefully feels her way over Serena’s ankle, noting that the other woman is wearing stockings under her trousers rather than socks, and that the shoes she’s wearing are not very suitable for the snowy conditions. 

“Well, I don’t think you’ve broken your ankle,” she observes. “It’s most likely a sprain.”

“I think so, too,” Serena says. “I’ve wrenched my knee and I think I grazed it, too.”

“The knee of your trousers is damaged so that seems likely,” Bernie agrees. “I hope you’ll forgive me for observing that you’re hardly dressed for the weather.”

Serena sighs. “I know. I’m down here for a conference and why they picked the wilds of Devon for a conference in December, I cannot imagine.” She huffs in obvious annoyance. “Anyway, I’ve been thinking about retiring this last year or so and I’ve been considering this part of the world as the place to retire to. This morning I saw a listing for a house for sale somewhere around here and since I have nothing else to do today, I thought I’d come and have a look. I wasn’t expecting it to start snowing or for it to snow so much.”

Bernie shakes her head. “That’ll be the old McCready place,” she says. “I could not, in all honesty, recommend it as a place to retire to unless you want to spend two years and several hundred thousand pounds fixing it up.”

“Um, no,” Serena says. “That sounds exhausting and not at all how I want to spend my retirement.”

“Okay. Why don’t we make our way into the kitchen and I’ll bathe your knee and put a dressing on it, if necessary. I recommend that you stay off that leg as much as possible for the next couple of days, at least. When were you planning on returning home?”

“Tomorrow morning,” Serena says, her expression rueful.

“And did you drive here?”

“No, I came down on the train.”

“And how did you get here from wherever the conference was held?”

“A taxi dropped me at the bottom of the road.”

“Right, well I’d better drive you back to your hotel.”

Bernie gets to her feet and reaches out to snag a sturdy walking stick from the umbrella stand beside the front door. “Here,” she says, holding it out. “Try not to put too much weight on your right leg.”

“Thanks.”

Serena takes one step and nearly slips in her stocking-clad feet on the highly polished parquet floor of Bernie’s hallway.

“Right,” she says, reaching out to catch Serena before she can fall and make matters worse. “Excuse me.” She bends her knees and scoops Serena up into her arms, suppressing a grunt in case the brunette thinks it’s a comment on her weight (since Serena’s not as slim as Bernie) rather than a response to carrying the other woman with a slightly dodgy back. 

“What are you doing?” Serena cries, sounding thoroughly shocked.

“Keeping you off your leg,” Bernie tells her and walks down the hallway to the kitchen. She can’t help feeling grateful that it’s not a long hallway because her back is definitely screaming at her by the time she lowers Serena into a chair next to the kitchen table.

“You’re a madwoman,” Serena says.

“It was expedient,” Bernie tells her. “Right, I’m going to need you to lower your trousers, please.”

“I don’t usually let someone get into my trousers without them at least buying me dinner first,” Serena says, a teasing glint in her eye.

“Consider me your exception,” Bernie responds, then wonders where that came from. It’s been a long time since she flirted with a pretty woman. She opens a cupboard and takes out her First Aid kit, setting it on the table near Serena’s elbow, before helping the other woman to stand on one leg so that can lower her trousers and Bernie can deal with her knee.

“That’s a very nasty graze,” she observes. “This will sting.”

“I know,” Serena says. “I know the drill.”

“Sorry,” Bernie says. “Force of habit. I’ve been retired for over three years but old habits die hard.”

“It’s fine,” Serena says with a soft chuckle. She winces a little when Bernie carefully dabs at her knee with some disinfectant.

The blonde hisses sympathetically when she sees the state of Serena’s knee. “That’s nasty.” She cleans it thoroughly, then applies a dressing before grabbing a bandage and winding it around Serena’s foot and ankle to give her the necessary support she’ll need. Then she gets to her feet and grabs a glass of water, which she gives to the brunette along with some painkillers. “I don’t like the idea of you trying to get back to – where’s home?”

“Holby.”

Bernie stares at her, astonished. “Huh. I used to be based in Holby whenever I was in England.”

“Oh my god!” Serena exclaims. “I’ve just realised who you are.”

Bernie raises her eyebrows. “Oh?”

“You’re Major Berenice Wolfe, trauma surgeon with the RAMC. I thought your face looked familiar, but it’s been a dozen years or so since I last saw you giving a paper and then a demonstration on trauma techniques at a conference in – where was it?” Serena frowns. “Edinburgh.”

“Oh.” Bernie feels a bit astonished to be recognised. “Actually, I’m Lieutenant Colonel Wolfe now although, as I said, I’ve been retired for over three years.”

“What made you retire if you don’t mind me ask?” asks Serena, struggling to stand up and pull up her trousers. Bernie immediately reaches out to draw her trousers back up, swiftly zipping and buttoning them for her.

“Well, I got blown up,” Bernie says. “For the second time and my kids begged me not to go back in case I wasn’t lucky a third time. They had a point. I was damned lucky to survive the first time as the vehicle I was in was hit by an IED. I had a pseudoaneurysm of the right ventricle and my heart stopped while the surgeons were trying to repair that and remove the crushed cervical disc and repair a C5/C6 fracture. The latter could’ve left me paralysed, of course. The second time was even worse: I actually was temporarily paralysed, and I suffered from temporary amnesia, too, so I had no clue who I was, nor where I was, and I couldn’t tell the hospital staff to contact my kids to let them know I was okay after they saw the news reports on the television and across social media saying that there’d been two explosions in Mogadishu, one at the international airport, the other at the hospital where I’d been working.”

She blows out a breath. “It was more than a week before the RAMC tracked me down and were able to notify my kids that I had survived and where I was. They flew out to Mogadishu and begged that I see this as a sign I should quit while I wasn’t dead. I wasn’t inclined to argue with them.”

She notices Serena is gazing at her, eyes wide, and blushes at the intense scrutiny the brunette is subjecting her to. “Do you – um – do you have anyone who can come down from Holby to collect you and get you back in time for Christmas?”

Serena winces. “No. My nephew and his family have already gone to his wife’s family for the holiday, and my daughter is with her father and his child bride.”

“Oh.”

“It’s fine, I’ll get the hotel to let me stay for a few more days until I’m secure enough on my feet not to fall over, then I’ll take the train.”

“Okay. Let me grab my phone and my car keys and I’ll run you over to the hotel.”

“Are you sure?” Serena asks with a frown. “I could just call a taxi.”

Bernie snorts. “Trust me, no taxi driver would try coming up this road in this snow as it’s far too steep, and you’re in no fit state to walk down the road.”

“Oh, well I’ll defer to your superior knowledge of the local taxi companies. Thank you, Bernie.”

“You’re welcome.” Bernie carries Serena back along the hallway to the chair where she’d previously sat and helps her into her coat, hat, and shoes, eyeing the hat with a quirk of her lips that makes Serena poke her shoulder. 

“Don’t laugh, it’s very warm.”

Bernie holds her hands up in a gesture of surrender. “I said not a word.”

“I could hear you thinking it,” Serena retorts.

Bernie smirks, then goes to fetch her phone and car keys. She swallows the last of her hot chocolate, then carries the mug into the kitchen and rinses it out. She grabs her hat, a pastel blue beanie knitted for her by her daughter, wraps a scarf around herself and tucks it into the neck of her coat, then pulls on her leather driving gloves. 

“I’m going to get the car out of the garage,” Bernie tells Serena, “then I’ll come and help you out to it.”

“Okay.”

Bernie gives her a nod, lets herself out of the house, then makes her way along the side path to the garage, which she beeps open, then she gets into her SUV. She’d been a bit sceptical when someone had recommended getting an SUV for driving around this part of Devon, but it had proved to be wise advice and today she’s especially grateful to her past self for taking that advice as there’s no way she could’ve got Serena to the hotel in her sports car. She pulls out of the garage, then beeps the garage door to close again, before driving down the drive and pulling up on the pavement in front of her own gate. She leaves the engine running and the passenger door open, secure in the knowledge that no one would be daft enough to steal her vehicle today, and goes to get Serena.

“Bring the stick,” she tells the brunette, then scoops her up into her arms again and carries her down the path, through the gate and across the short distance to the SUV. She knows her back will make her regret this tonight, but right now she doesn’t care as it’s far easier to carry Serena to the SUV than to have her try to hobble to it. 

“I’m just going to and puts some regular boots on,” she tells the other woman once Serena’s seated securely. “I can’t drive in wellingtons.”

“Okay.”

“Are you warm enough?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Alright. Back in a tick.” Bernie closes the passenger door, then hurries up the path and lets herself back into the cottage. She swiftly swaps her wellington boots for her usual boots, cursing herself for forgetting to make that swap before she went to get the SUV out of the garage, then she lets herself out of the cottage, locks the door, and hurries back to the waiting Serena.

“I presume you’re at The Park?” Bernie asks and Serena agrees. “Okay. Tell me about the conference. Were you presenting a paper?”

“I was,” Serena agrees with a smile.

“Tell me about it, please.”

So Serena beguiles the journey to the hotel with an account of the paper she gave, then some of the other papers she heard. 

Eventually Bernie pulls into a parking space near the front of the hotel, and she climbs out, then helps Serena down from the passenger seat, offering her right arm for Serena to link her own arm through in order to stabilise her. They make their way into the hotel and head for the reception desk. 

Bernie is completely unsurprised when the receptionist tells Serena that she won’t be able to extend her stay beyond the following day owing to a prior booking and confirms that the hotel is fully booked for the Christmas period. She can sense that Serena’s getting agitated by the information she’s being given, so she says to the woman behind the desk, “Could you excuse us for a moment, please?” The woman nods and Bernie guides Serena over to a chair in the lobby.

“Look, this might be a bit weird, but why don’t you come and stay with me? I’ve got a guest room that you can use and I’ve enough food in to feed two people as well as one.”

“Aren’t your children coming for Christmas?” Serena asks, clearly surprised by the invitation.

“Ah, no. This year they’re with their father for Christmas and coming to me for a few days over the New Year. We take it in turns to have them. The only thing is, you’ll have to put up with my cat.”

“If you’re really sure,” Serena says, sounding hesitant. But Bernie can see from her expression that a part of her wants to say yes.

“I am absolutely one hundred percent certain sure,” she tells her. “And at least this way you’ll have medical expertise immediately available.”

Serena chuckles. “Thank you, Bernie, I appreciate the offer, and I accept.”

“Good. Stay there.”

Serena raises one eyebrow at her, but Bernie just smirks, then crosses to speak to Sarah, the receptionist. She immediately grabs a tablet and follows Bernie back across the lobby to where Serena’s sitting.

“I understand you wish to check out now, rather than tomorrow?” Sarah asks, taking the seat beside her.

“Yes, please,” Serena says.

“Of course, madam.” Sarah bends over her tablet and Serena looks over her head and mouths ‘madam’ at Bernie, who smirks at her. She gets an eyeroll in response, and outright grins, although she adopts a neutral expression when Sarah looks up to confirm with Serena that her credit card will be refunded for that night’s unused occupancy.

“Do you have a wheelchair?” Bernie asks once Sarah’s finished tapping away at her tablet.

“Of course,” Sarah says and heads across the lobby to a concealed cupboard from which she draws out a folded up wheelchair.

“Oh no, Bernie,” Serena groans.

“I’m going to have to insist, I’m afraid,” Bernie tells her. “You need to be resting that ankle as much as possible. You surely haven’t forgotten RICE?”

Serena blows out a breath. “No, I haven’t.”

“Good.” Bernie helps Serena into the wheelchair while Sarah holds it steady, then she thanks the other woman before wheeling Serena over to the lift. Once in Serena’s room, Bernie carefully packs away her things, folding her clothes as neatly as if she was still in the army. She double checks she’s got everything, then she wheels Serena and the case out into the hallway, while the brunette carries her briefcase in her lap.

When Sarah sees them emerge from the lift she waves over a colleague, a very fit looking young man who takes Serena’s briefcase from her, then grabs the wheeled case from Bernie, before he leads the way out of the hotel. He stows both bags in the boot of Bernie’s SUV, then assists Serena into the passenger seat, before wishing them both a Merry Christmas.

“Now,” Bernie says as she pulls out of the hotel grounds. “Is there anything in particular that you like to eat or drink at Christmas?”

“Shiraz,” Serena says immediately, then laughs a little. “Although, truth be told, I drink it all year round.”

Bernie chuckles. “Duly noted. Anything else?”

“What are you having for Christmas dinner?”

“Turkey breast with roast carrots and parsnips, roast potatoes, sage and onion stuffing, and gravy. I’ve a pack of turkey breasts so I can easily double up for you. Followed by mince pie and custard as I’m not such a fan of Christmas pudding – although if you want one, I can buy an individual one for you. I’ll be heading out tomorrow to grab a few last minute things.”

“Mince pie and custard sounds good, actually,” Serena says with a smile. “As does the main course. What are you planning for Christmas Eve dinner?”

“Good to know,” Bernie says. “For dinner tomorrow night I’m doing tomato poached haddock with fresh herbs.”

“I don’t think that’s something I’ve ever had,” Serena observes.

“Well, if you don’t like the sound of it, I can easily make something else.”

“No, it sounds good. What accompaniment do you serve with it?”

“Warm crusty bread.”

“Sounds delicious.”

“Good.”

Bernie pulls into the drive, beeps the garage door, then drives inside. “We’ll go through the side door into the kitchen,” she tells Serena. “It’ll be quicker and less hazardous than going around and through the front door.”

“Okay.” 

Bernie climbs out of the SUV, takes Serena’s case and briefcase from the boot, leaving them inside the kitchen door, then she lifts the brunette out of the passenger seat and sets her down carefully on her feet. She locks the SUV, then helps Serena into the cottage. 

“Now, are you going to be comfortable sitting with your foot up, or would you prefer to go to bed?”

“Oh, it’s too early to go to bed,” she says immediately.

“Okay.”

Bernie supports her as she walks the short distance to the sitting room and she gets Serena settled onto the sofa on the opposite side of the fire from her armchair, which Smokey is sleeping in.

“Lovely cat,” Serena observes as Bernie fetches the footstool from the corner of the room, having first removed the stack of medical journals that she usually piles on top of it.

“Thanks. She’s called Smokey. She’s a rescue cat.” Bernie puts a cushion on top of the footstool, then positions it in front of Serena before helping her to lift her leg up onto it. “Is that comfortable?” she asks solicitously.

“As comfortable as can be expected,” Serena says. “Thank you. And thank you for being so kind as to take me in.” 

“You’re welcome. Can I get you something to drink? Hot chocolate, tea, coffee?”

“Hot chocolate as I suppose it’s a little early for something stronger,” Serena says with a rueful expression.

“Plus, I don’t have any Shiraz in,” Bernie tells her with a chuckle. “Do you want some marshmallows?”

“Ooh yes please.”

“Okay. And have you had any lunch?”

“I had a sandwich at the hotel before I came up here.”

“Would you like something to eat? Mince pie? Slice of Christmas cake? Both, even?”

Serena chuckles. “Are you trying to fatten me up, soldier?”

Bernie laughs. “No, just take care of you.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say no to a mince pie, thank you.”

“Alright. I’ll be back shortly.”

As Bernie goes to move away Serena clasps her wrist, then slides her hand down to tangle their fingers together. She squeezes and says, “I really am very grateful to you.”

Bernie squeezes back. “I’m only glad that I was here and happened to look out of the window at the exact moment you fell down. You might have lain there for some time otherwise.” 

Serena grimaces, then releases Bernie’s hand. “That doesn’t bear thinking about.”

“No.” 

Bernie leaves Serena sitting by the fire and goes to the kitchen to make her some hot chocolate with marshmallows and to warm up a couple of mince pies. She carries the mug and plate through to the sitting room with a fork balanced on the plate and a napkin tucked underneath it.

“Here you go,” Bernie says, then chuckles when she sees that Smokey has firmly ensconced herself on Serena’s lap. “Are you okay with her there?”

“Perfectly okay, thank you.” Serena accepts the plate and the napkin, tucking it into the collar of her blouse since the cat’s in her lap. “This is lovely, thank you.”

Bernie sets the mug of hot chocolate within easy reach on the end table next to the sofa and smiles. “You’re welcome. I’m going to take your briefcase and case up to the guest room.”

“I hope you’ll come and sit down after that,” Serena says, one eyebrow raised. 

“Happily,” Bernie tells her with a smile. “Back shortly.”

Serena nods around a mouthful of mince pie and Bernie leaves her to enjoy them while she takes her things upstairs. She leaves the briefcase on the table under the window and the suitcase by the foot of the bed. She fetches some towels from the linen cupboard on the landing and leaves them in a neat pile on the bed.

Then she heads back downstairs and makes herself a cup of tea, grabs a slice of Christmas cake, before heading to join Serena, taking a seat in her usual armchair.

“Okay?” she asks and gets a nod as the brunette’s drinking her hot chocolate. “Good. Your room is all ready for you.”

“Thanks.”

“Oh, I forgot to ask – are you okay with chilli con carne for dinner? I use a recipe that serves four and then usually freeze the rest for another day, so there’ll be more than enough for you, too.”

“That sounds wonderful, thank you.”

“Good. Do you want the radio on or the television? Or I can put on a CD.”

“A CD sounds good. Do you have anything seasonal?”

“I do,” Bernie agrees and gets to her feet again to pull some CDs from the rack of them next to the stereo. “I’ve got Dolly Parton, something called Now That’s What I Call Christmas which I believe my son gave to me, something else called A Classic Christmas which is a mixture of carols and classical music, or John Rutter.”

“Oh, John Rutter, please.”

“Okay.” Bernie opens the CD drawer on her stereo, then slides in the CD and presses play before returning to her seat, bringing the CD case with her in case Serena wants to look at it.

They spend a pleasant hour talking about their experiences as surgeons, with the music playing in the background, then Bernie goes to make dinner. 

“Do you want to come and sit in the kitchen with me or would you prefer to stay here?”

“How long will it take?”

“The prep time’s twenty minutes.”

“In that case, I think I’ll stay here. Well, um –” Serena blushes, making her look even prettier, Bernie thinks.

“Oh, do you need help to go to the bathroom?” Serena nods and Bernie smiles. “It’s okay, I’ve got a downstairs loo, so you won’t have to struggle up and down the stairs.”

“Oh thank goodness for that!”

Bernie chuckles a little and helps her up from the sofa, lending her arm for Serena to lean on, along with the walking stick, until she reaches the bathroom. 

“Better leave the door unlocked just in case you get into difficulty,” Bernie says. “Give me a shout when you’re ready to return to the sofa.”

“I will.”

Bernie nods, then heads into the kitchen to begin her food preparation. She’s got everything laid out on the counter when Serena calls her name, and she hurries back down the hallway to help the brunette back to the sofa. Smokey has retreated to Bernie’s chair since they disturbed her in order for Serena could use the bathroom, so the brunette is soon settled back in the same spot as before.

Bernie leaves her with the most recent copies of _The Lancet_ and _The BMJ_ to read, then returns to the kitchen to continue making the chilli for tonight’s dinner.

She gets the chilli in the oven, then returns to the sitting room again. She turns on the Christmas tree lights, and the lights hung in the window, then asks, “Do you want something to drink? Tea, coffee, more hot chocolate?”

“I wouldn’t mind a good cuppa,” Serena says. “I like it strong with just a splash of milk and one sugar.”

Bernie grins. “Duly noted. Are you okay with basmati rice and a green salad to go with the chilli?”

“That sounds good.”

“Good. I’ll go and make a pot of tea. Do you need anything else?”

“No, thank you.”

“Okay.”

Bernie returns to the kitchen and makes a pot of tea, adding cups and saucers, a jug of milk, and the sugar bowl to the tray, not forgetting teaspoons as well. She carefully carries everything down the hallway, aware that her back is beginning to make her regret carrying Serena earlier. She blows out a breath, rustling her fringe; too late to do anything to fix her back ache now.

She sets the tray down on the coffee table in front of the sofa and pours them both a cup of tea, adding milk and sugar to Serena’s, then passing over the cup and saucer.

“Cheers,” Serena says cheerfully, nudging Bernie’s arm with her own as the blonde settles beside her since she doesn’t want to disturb Smokey.

“Cheers.” Bernie gives her a shy smile. “How’s the ankle? Do you want some more painkillers?”

“No, it’s not too bad at the moment.”

“Well, let me know when it starts aching again.”

“I will.”

“Good.”

They talk some more, mostly about their families and the struggles they went through while trying to be mothers and surgeons in a male-dominated field. Bernie mentions the guilt she felt for missing school sports days and plays, and Serena tells her she’s not alone in that.

“Ellie still hasn’t forgiven me for quite a few such missed events,” Serena admits. “Unfortunately for me she’s inherited my love of ‘take it to the grave’ grudges.”

“Ouch,” Bernie says. “Cam used to sulk, whereas Charlie used to give me this ‘I’m disappointed in you, mother’ look that I really hated.”

Eventually, after Bernie’s returned to the kitchen to make up a salad and steam some rice, as well as finishing off the chilli, dinner is ready, and she helps Serena to the kitchen to settle at the table there.

“I’m sorry I don’t have a proper dining room,” Bernie says and Serena chuckles.

“Don’t be daft. This is fine. I eat in the kitchen, too, when I’m on my own. I think it’s a waste of time and energy to lay the dining table for one person, then carry all the food through from the kitchen.”

Bernie grins. “Exactly.”

Serena expresses great approval for Bernie’s cooking and her appreciative moans have an embarrassingly stirring effect on the blonde’s libido. She has to swallow quite hard and clench her thighs together a couple of times, but she manages to survive the meal without spontaneously combusting. 

“I must admit, I’ve never drunk beer with chilli before,” Serena observes as she finishes off the glass of beer that Bernie had poured for her. “I’d normally have wine.”

Bernie chuckles. “Is there anything you don’t drink wine with?” she teases.

“Breakfast,” Serena ripostes, making Bernie laugh, which sets off the brunette when she hears Bernie’s ‘goose honk’ laughter.

“Goodness me, that’s quite the laugh you have there,” Serena observes once they’ve calmed down again.

“I know, I know,” Bernie says, wiping tears of laughter from her cheeks. “Can I interest you in dessert?”

“What did you have in mind?” asks Serena curiously.

“Ice cream. I always like the contrast between red hot chilli and freezing ice cream.”

“I can be persuaded to partake.”

“Raspberry ripple or pistachio?”

“Hmm, raspberry ripple, please.”

“Okay.”

Bernie gets the tub out, two dishes and spoons, and the ice cream scoop. “Say when,” she says, and proceeds to scoop out fairly large servings for them both.

“When,” Serena says, then accepts the bowl and spoon that Bernie passes to her.

After dinner, Bernie helps Serena back to the sofa, then loads up the dishwasher ready to turn it on once she’s about to head to bed. Smokey appears, mewing piteously, as if she’d been starved all day, and Bernie chuckles, makes a fuss of her, then puts food and water into her bowls. She leaves the cat to eat, then makes them both a mug of tea, then carries the mugs through to the sitting room.

She and Serena spend the evening reading medical journals and occasionally talking about what they’ve read, while listening to more seasonal music. 

Bernie helps Serena upstairs to bed when she starts trying to stifle yawns, then returns downstairs to lock up, switch off the lights, and make sure that Smokey is shut in the kitchen for the night. Then she heads back upstairs to grab a shower in the hope that it’ll ease her back sufficiently so that she won’t wake up in pain the next day.


	2. for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire:

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Eve dawns.

On Christmas Eve Bernie wakes up a little sore, but not in agony, which she’ll take as a win. She makes her way downstairs to feed Smokey and make some coffee, then heads back upstairs when she hears Serena calling her name. She helps the other woman to the bathroom and back, then offers her coffee.

“Oh, yes please,” Serena says eagerly.

“Okay. How did you sleep?”

“Really well, actually. This bed is very comfortable.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I’ll go and fetch the coffee.”

Serena nods and Bernie heads back downstairs again to finish making the coffee. She also puts some shortbread biscuits on a plate, then adds it and the mugs of coffee to the tray and carries everything upstairs.

“I wondered whether you’d prefer to stay in bed until I’ve been to the shops for the last bits and pieces for Christmas, not forgetting your Shiraz, or if you want to get up and stay in the sitting room? I realise it’ll be somewhat boring for you, either way, but I really don’t want you to walk around on that sprained ankle any more than is absolutely necessary.”

“Oh, I’d rather not stay in bed, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not. Okay, I’m going to go and get dressed. Do you need a hand getting dressed?” Bernie hopes she’s not blushing too obviously at the thought of helping Serena to get dressed.

“I think I can manage, but I’ll shout if I get stuck.”

“Alright. Just don’t attempt the stairs without me, please.”

“I won’t.”

“Good.”

Bernie leaves Serena to finish her coffee and shortbread, making swift work of getting dressed in her usual skinny jeans, long sleeved shirt, and sweater. She doesn’t want to layer up too much as she suspects the shops will be too hot. She’s just leaving her room when Serena calls for her, so she goes in to help the brunette put a sock on over her bandaged foot, then she lets Serena hold onto her arm as she gets her feet into her slippers.

They make their way downstairs and Bernie gets her settled in the sitting room with her foot elevated again.

“I’m just going to do a couple of things, and then I’ll head out,” Bernie tells her. “Here’s the remote control for the television and the one for the stereo if you want to listen to the radio. If you want a change from reading medical journals, I can offer you some Golden Age detective fiction?”

“Oh,” Serena says. “Do you have Josephine Tey?”

“I do. What would you like?”

“ _Brat Farrar_ , please.”

Bernie grins. “A personal favourite of mine.” She crosses the room to the bookcases in the corner of the room opposite the television and pulls the book from the shelf, then gives it to Serena. “Enjoy it.”

“I will,” Serena says with a smile.

“Would you prefer it if I shut Smokey in the kitchen while I’m out? Or do you prefer to have her around for company?”

“I’d be glad of her company.”

“Okay. Just don’t let her trip you up when you go to the bathroom.”

“I’ll be very careful, I promise.” Serena’s got a bit of a twinkle in her eyes and Bernie gives her a half smile.

“Sorry, I know I’m being Mother Hen. Or ‘Smother Hen’ as my eldest called me when he felt I was going overboard with the mothering.”

“It’s fine,” Serena says in a reassuring tone. “I appreciate you taking such good care of me.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll be back shortly.”

Serena nods and Bernie heads to the kitchen. She makes up a thermos of coffee for Serena and puts it on the tray along with a mug. She adds a plate holding a slice of Christmas cake plus two mince pies, then a bowl of fruit, before adding a napkin and some cutlery. She also adds a glass of water and a strip of painkillers.

“What’s this?” asks Serena, looking up from her book when Bernie sets the tray down on the end table so it’s within easy reach of the brunette’s seat.

“A one point eight litre thermos of coffee and some snacks. I’m aiming to be back no later than lunchtime, but I cannot absolutely guarantee it. I’m hoping the early start will allow me to beat the worst of the madness.”

“I see. Well, thank you for thinking of this.”

Bernie gives her another half smile. “Benefits of being in the Army. Excellent preparation skills,” she says, making Serena chuckle.

“Fair enough.”

“Will you give me your mobile number so I can either text or call you if I’m going to be any later than one o’clock? I don’t want you to feel stranded.”

“Alright. Give me your phone.”

Bernie hands it over and Serena enters her number, then sends herself a quick text so that she has Bernie’s number.

“If you get bored and want to text me, I’ll do my best to respond promptly,” she says, then wonders what possessed her to suggest it when Serena raises an eyebrow interrogatively. “Okay, going now.” She can feel her face heating up and hopes it’s not too obvious to the brunette.

“Good luck,” she says.

“Thank you.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

By the time Bernie pulls her SUV into the garage a little before 1pm she is feeling utterly shattered: her back in aching fiercely, a consequence of carrying Serena yesterday and shopping bags today, and she is very much feeling ‘peopled out’. 

She lets herself into the house via the kitchen door, then calls out, “I’m back.” Serena had probably heard her arrive, but it still feels right to let her know that she’s returned.

“How was it?” calls the brunette.

“Absolute madness.”

“Oh dear.”

Bernie leaves the bags on the kitchen table, then makes her way down the hallway to hang up her coat, her gloves and hat in its pockets. She sets her boots, which she’d removed on entering the house, on the shoe rack, then slides her feet into her slippers. 

“How are you doing?” she asks. 

“I’ve nearly finished the book,” Serena says, lifting it so that Bernie can see how few pages are remaining.

The blonde smiles. “I hope you enjoyed it.”

“I did.”

“Good.” She notes that Smokey is curled up fast asleep in Serena’s lap and thinks how amazing it is that the cat has taken so easily to the brunette – she certainly took longer than this to accept either Cam or Charlie on their first visits after she got Smokey from the local animal shelter.

“You look frazzled,” Serena says.

“I do feel it, a bit,” Bernie agrees with a grimace. “I’m just going to put the perishables away, then I’ll bring lunch through.”

“I wish I could help,” Serena says fretfully.

Bernie rounds the sofa and sits down beside her. “It’s fine, Serena, honestly,” she says, giving the other woman’s knee a squeeze. “You don’t have to do anything to pay me back for being here. It’s nice to have company since I was expecting to be alone this year.”

“Well, I’m glad of your company, too, even if I did have to sprain my ankle to get it.”

Bernie chuckles. “Did you finish up the coffee?” she asks, getting up and leaning over to grab the tray. She hisses as pain stabs at her back and Serena grabs her arm. 

“Are you okay?” she asks worriedly.

“Back’s giving me gyp, that’s all,” Bernie tells her. 

“Sit down for a minute, then,” Serena says, tugging at her arm. “I can wait a few more minutes for my lunch, given you left me plenty of snacks to keep me going during the morning.”

Bernie sits down and Serena says, “Would a back rub help?”

She swallows. A back rub would definitely help her a great deal. She’s just not sure that it’s a good idea given her growing attraction to Serena. Still, she’d be a fool to refuse just because her libido’s finally woken up again.

“It would, yes,” she says.

“Okay. Better take off your sweater, at least.”

Bernie eases it off, stifling a whimper of pain in the process. 

“And best if you unbutton your shirt so I can more easily get my hands beneath it to get at your back. Of course, it’d better still if you took your shirt off.” 

“I don’t usually let someone take my shirt off without them at least buying me dinner first,” Bernie quips, recalling Serena’s line regarding her trousers from the day before.

As she’d anticipated her response make Serena laugh. “Get on with you, Wolfe,” she says, pushing gently as Bernie’s shoulder.

She’s not sure why, but Bernie feels a thrill skate down her spine at being called ‘Wolfe’. “Fine, fine,” she says in a grumbling tone, although she knows Serena can see her half smile as she unbuttons her shirt and takes it off to reveal a plain white sports bra. She shifts on the sofa so that she’s facing away from Serena and does her best not to groan when the brunette immediately sets to work on easing her muscles.

“Are you seeing someone?” Serena asks.

“You’re asking me that now?” Bernie asks in a teasing tone. 

“About your back, ridiculous woman.”

“Yes, I see an osteopath regularly, but it’ll be another couple of weeks before I go again.”

Serena murmurs an ‘Okay’ and Bernie can tell she’s focused on the back rub. She closes her eyes and tries not to imagine other circumstances in which Serena might have her hands on her body. She feels immensely relieved when the brunette tells her that she can put her shirt back on.

“Thank you. That feels a good deal better.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Just don’t go lifting anything heavy for the rest of today. Including me.”

Bernie’s glad that her back is still to Serena so that the other woman cannot see her blush. “Duly noted,” she says as she swiftly refastens her buttons, then pulls on her sweater over the top. 

She picks up the tray and gives Serena a smile. “I’ll be back with lunch shortly.”

“Thank you.”

Bernie takes the tray to the kitchen and quickly puts away the perishables, leaving the rest of the shopping to sort out after they’ve had some lunch. She had texted Serena during the course of the morning suggesting that she bring some pre-made sandwiches home for their lunch and Serena had agreed cheerfully, telling Bernie what she’d prefer to have and giving her a couple of alternatives in case they didn’t have her first choice. Now she sets their sandwiches onto plates, then adds a bowl of crisps, a plate holding a pain au chocolate (as an alternative to the Christmassy cakes Serena’s eaten during the morning), another plate holding a cheese scone, and some napkins. She carries everything through to the sitting room and sets the contents of the tray on the coffee table.

“Would you prefer tea or coffee?” she asks.

“Tea, please.”

“Okay.”

When she reaches the kitchen, she finds Smokey has followed her and she chuckles softly, reaching down to scoop up the kitten and make a fuss of her. She marvels at how easily she pulls off this manoeuvre and is very grateful that Serena gave her that back rub. She refills the kettle and switches it on, then sets down Smokey to get out the teapot and a couple of mugs. The cat winds itself around her legs for a bit, then wanders over to her food bowl and settles down to eat.

She takes the tray holding the tea things back to the sitting room and is a little surprised to discover Serena isn’t eating.

“I wanted to wait for you,” she explains when Bernie gives her a questioning look.

“That’s nice of you,” she says, feeling touched. She pours out a mug of tea each, then puts Serena’s on the end table.

“Where’s Smokey?”

“Eating in the kitchen.” Bernie nods at Serena’s turkey, bacon, cranberry sauce, and stuffing sandwich. “Bon appetit.”

“Thank you. I hope you enjoy yours, too.”

“Thanks.” Bernie has opted for a pigs in blankets sandwich: sausages wrapped in bacon on a layer of caramelised onion chutney. The sandwiches were made to order at her favourite indie bakery – she doesn’t patronise the likes of Starbucks, preferring to support the bakery that sources most of its ingredients locally. They also make the most delicious pastries, and she tends to go there to buy lunch whenever she goes into the town to run errands.

They eat in silence, apart from the radio playing quietly in the background, and Bernie can’t remember the last time she felt this comfortable with someone who, until the day before, was a stranger. She hadn’t even bonded this quickly with Alex Dawson and she wonders if she should be worried about how well she and Serena get on, given that the brunette will be returning to Holby in a couple of days. She banishes that thought resolutely. She’ll cross that bridge when she comes to it.

“Oh, I forgot,” she says, getting to her feet abruptly.

Serena gives her a startled look. “What did you forget?”

“Back in a second,” Bernie says, setting her empty plate down on the coffee table before hurrying to the kitchen. She returns quickly and holds out a brown paper bag from one of the pharmacies in town.

“What’s this?” Serena asks, setting aside her own empty plate before taking the bag.

Bernie smirks. “Well, if you open it, you’ll find out,” she teases.

Serena rolls her eyes and unfolds the top of the bag, then pulls out the item inside. “An ankle support boot.”

“I thought it’d give your ankle more support and make it easier for you to walk about when you need to do so.”

“Thank you, Bernie. That’s very kind of you.”

“It was no trouble,” Bernie assures her. “Want me to put it on for you?”

“Yes, but not until after we’ve finished lunch,” Serena says, patting the sofa beside her. “Sit down, Bernie, you’ve been busy all day. You deserve to finish your lunch in peace. It’s not as if I’m going anywhere just now.”

“Okay.” Bernie gives her a soft smile and sets the boot aside on the coffee table, then passes Serena the plate holding her requested pain au chocolat. “Do you want some more tea?”

“Yes please.”

Bernie pours them both another cup, and Serena sets hers on the end table, then they eat the rest of their lunch. Afterwards Bernie loads up the tray and carries it through to the kitchen, then returns and puts the boot on for Serena, then watches as she carefully makes her way to the bathroom, leaning heavily on the walking stick Bernie had given her.

She returns to the kitchen and gathers up two of the bags she brought with her, taking them into the sitting room to put the neatly wrapped parcels beneath the tree with the parcels she’d already received from Cam and Charlie, as well as a couple of her oldest friends from the RAMC.

It’s only as she’s moving away that she notices there are two new items under the tree. Both are wrapped in a metallic red paper and when she checks the tags, they’re both for her. She frowns, then moves out from under the tree before her back decides to object to her position.

When she straightens up she sees Serena has returned from the bathroom and is giving her a sheepish look. “I assume those two in the red paper are from you?” she asks.

Serena nods, then smirks and says, “Online delivery is a wonderful thing.”

“You didn’t need to get me anything.”

Serena makes a noise that sounds like ‘Pfft’ and Bernie chuckles. “Thank you. I, um, well I may’ve got you a couple of things while I was in town.”

“Then we’re even, aren’t we?” the brunette asks.

Bernie chuckles again. “I suppose we are.”

They decide to watch a couple of Christmas films before dinner and bicker amicably over what to watch before agreeing on _Miracle on 34th Street_ and _A Muppet Christmas Carol_.

“You do realise these are both children’s films?” Serena teases.

“Well, you were the one who told me I couldn’t pick _Die Hard 2_ ,” Bernie retorts with a smirk.

“That is not a Christmas film and I don’t care what arguments you put forth to say it is,” Serena declares.

Bernie shakes her head. “Impossible woman.”

Serena rolls her eyes and Bernie goes to fetch two mugs of hot chocolate with marshmallows and some of the gingerbread people she’d made when she made the mince pies a few days ago. She reflects, not for the first time, on the irony of turning into a woman who bakes routinely when she has no one but herself to bake for since her children are grown up and her husband is an ex. Then again, before she left the Army, she’d rarely had time to bake, and Marcus always got pissed off at the mess she made while baking if she ventured into the kitchen to do so while home on leave. It didn’t matter that she always cleared up after herself once whatever she was baking was in the oven, so she gradually gave up as it didn’t seem worth the fights.

She carries the tray of drinks and snacks into the sitting room and Serena coos over the gingerbread people. “Did you make these?” she asks, breaking the leg off a gingerbread woman and popping it into her mouth.

“I did. I made the mince pies, too. And the Christmas cake you ate this morning. I didn’t make the shortbread, though.”

“I’m very impressed,” Serena says. “I rarely find time to bake.”

“I didn’t either when I was in the RAMC. Well, I would occasionally when I was home on leave until I got fed up with Marcus picking fights with me over the mess I made in the kitchen. You’d think I never cleaned up after myself from the way he carried on.”

“Men!” Serena exclaims in disgust.

Bernie snorts. “Quite.”

“Well, you’re a great baker. This is delicious. You should do _Bake Off_.”

Bernie laughs. “No, thank you. It would terrify the life out of me.”

She grabs the remote control and starts the film and tries not to get too lost in her head at the sheer domesticity of sitting on the sofa with Serena, the tartan blanket spread over their laps, Smokey in Serena’s lap, the Christmas tree lit up with presents beneath it, and a favourite Christmas film on the television.

Serena goes to sleep about an hour into the film and Bernie smiles to herself as the brunette’s head comes to rest against her shoulder. She carefully lifts her arm and wraps it around the other woman, drawing her in more comfortably, and tries not to think too much about how _right_ it feels to be embracing Serena in this fashion. 

Eventually Bernie has to wake her up as it’s time to go and make dinner and feed Smokey. 

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” Serena says when she realises what’s happened.

“It’s fine, Serena, honestly,” Bernie says reassuringly. “But I do need to feed the cat and make our dinner.”

“Of course.” 

Bernie folds back the blanket from her legs and gets to her feet, then gathers up their empty mugs and the plate holding the last couple of gingerbread people. “Can I get you anything?”

“No, thank you. I’m going to go to the bathroom, but I think I can manage on my own. My ankle’s feeling a lot less painful now.”

“Good.”

She leaves Serena to make her own way to the bathroom and heads into the kitchen. She’s just about to start heating the oil to make the tomato sauce for the haddock when the brunette walks in and takes a seat at the table.

“I thought I’d have a change of scenery,” she says. “How long was I asleep for?”

“You fell asleep an hour into _Miracle_ and missed all of the Muppets. So, about two and a half hours.”

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

Bernie shrugs. “You seemed like you needed the sleep,” she says. “And it didn’t bother me that you fell asleep on me.”

“Oh.” 

Bernie can’t work out how Serena feels about this and wonders if she should’ve kept that thought to herself, but it’s too late to take it back now. She turns her attention back to the cooker and focuses on making dinner, adding ingredients for the tomato sauce to the pan, then she leaves it to simmer for about ten minutes while she cuts chunky slices of bread to warm in the oven.

“Could you eat some green veggies with this?” she asks.

Serena’s been silent while Bernie worked and she’d wondered whether she’d upset the other woman, but now she notices that the brunette has been looking through the box of index cards on which she notes down her recipes.

“What did you have in mind?”

“I can either steam some vegetables or make a salad.”

“Steamed vegetables sounds good.”

“Spinach, peas, and broccoli?”

Serena nods, so Bernie quickly gets out the vegetables and puts water into a saucepan, switching on the ring, then placing the steamer basket into the pan. She chops the broccoli into smaller pieces, then drops them and the spinach into the water once it’s boiling. She checks on the tomato sauce, stirring it and adding a little salt and pepper to taste, then she adds the haddock and spoons the sauce over the top. The peas get added to the steamer basket, then she checks on the bread that’s warming in the oven.

“Do you need a hand?” Serena asks.

Bernie turns and grins at her. “You can pour the wine, if you like.” She sets the open bottle down on the table, then passes over two glasses.

“I actually meant with the cooking,” Serena says with a smile.

Bernie chuckles. “Thanks, but I can manage.”

“You do seem to be pretty good at multitasking,” Serena agrees.

“Well, when you’ve had to perform complicated trauma surgery while in the back of a moving vehicle that’s caught up in a fire fight, you learn to multitask well, or you lose the patient.”

“Fair point.”

A few minutes later, Bernie sets two plates on the table, each holding a haddock fillet coated in tomato sauce, with a portion of the steamed green vegetables alongside, then she takes the warmed bread from the oven and piles it onto a plate which she sets between Serena’s spot and her own. She whips off her apron and drapes it haphazardly over the back of one of the other chairs, then sits down to eat.

“Enjoy,” she says.

“Thank you,” Serena says, and immediately tucks in, grabbing a piece of bread to accompany the fish and vegetables.

Once their plates are cleared Serena leans back in her chair and asks, “Why aren’t you married? You’re an excellent cook; a kind-hearted, compassionate woman; and pretty gorgeous to boot.”

Bernie shrugs as she gets to her feet to clear away their empty plates and cutlery. “I suppose because I haven’t met anyone who is interested in living with me, let alone marrying me.”

“What’s the dating scene like around here?”

She chuckles. “You’re asking the wrong person. Since I retired, I’ve been on exactly two dates, neither of which went well.”

“Oh?” Serena’s tone is one of friendly enquiry, so Bernie decides to indulge her.

“The first one turned out to simply be indulging in a prurient curiosity in what it’s like to have sex with a woman. I decided not to indulge her curiosity and told her that if she was just a straight woman playing at being a queer woman then she would not make any friends in the community.”

“Yikes,” Serena says. “I can understand being uncertain about your own identity and wanting to explore, but that’s just gross.”

“Exactly. How about a mince pie and custard, or are you all mince pie-d out?”

Serena chuckles. “Not at all. Mince pie and custard sounds delightful, thank you.”

“Okay. Warm pie? There’s still some heat left in the oven.”

“Yes please. What happened on the second date?”

“Oh.” Bernie busies herself with putting a couple of mince pies on to a baking sheet, then slides it into the oven. “Turned out having dinner with me was just a way for my date to get her girlfriend jealous.” She sighs. “If I’m ever daft enough to date anyone again, I plan on picking someone my own age in the hopes she’s old enough to actually be mature and not play stupid games like that with other people’s feelings.”

“Oh Bernie.” The sympathy in Serena’s brown eyes and warm voice is almost too much for the blonde and she flashes the other woman a brief smile, then turns her attention to heating some custard.

“If it’s any consolation, I haven’t had much luck in dating other women, either.”

Bernie almost drops the saucepan when she hears Serena say that she’s dated women. She had gained the impression, clearly wrongly, that her new friend was a dyed in the wool heterosexual. She swallows hard, then says calmly, “Oh?”

Serena chuckles, the sound rich and warm in the silent kitchen. “I admit, though, none of my dating disasters with other women have been as bad as yours.”

“Oh thanks,” Bernie says, directing fake scowl at the other woman as she stirs the custard.

“And of course, there was the time an F1 hit on me.”

“You what?” Bernie whirls around so fast her hair whips across her cheek. 

“Mind the custard,” Serena chides, and breathing heavily, she turns her attention back to the saucepan.

“How old was this F1?”

“Well, she was a bit older than the average, but she was still young enough to be my daughter.”

“What happened?” asks Bernie, and only realises she’s gritted her teeth after she’s spoken. 

“Well, it was my birthday and we – that is the team from AAU – had gone to our local, _Albie’s_ , and people were buying me drinks. Leah, the F1, bought me more than one glass of Shiraz, then when she figured I was too far gone to refuse her, she outright propositioned me.”

“You reported her, of course,” Bernie says, trying not to stir the custard too aggressively, otherwise it’ll splash everywhere. “To your HR department?”

“Not on that occasion, no.”

“Why not?” Bernie scowls, but doesn’t look at Serena.

“I put it down to an overindulgence in alcohol and youthful high spirits.”

“‘Youthful high spirits’ my arse,” Bernie mutters crossly.

Serena chuckles and she flushes as she hadn’t meant her to overhear her comment. “Quite. The second time there was no alcohol involved. I was working the night shift and I’d had a patient earlier in the evening who’d been pretty severely injured. I was waiting for a free bed on ITU so that he could be transferred and as he’d already had one relapse, I didn’t want to just go home when my shift ended. So I went to get some sleep in the on-call room.”

Bernie half turns at the pause and sees Serena is toying with the pendant she wears, sliding it back and forth along the chain, and she knows instinctively that whatever Serena’s about to relate is painful.

“You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to,” she says softly, pouring the custard into a jug, then getting the mince pies out of the oven. She puts one in each of the bowls she’s set on the counter, then she puts one in front of Serena and one at her own place setting, before bringing the jug of custard to the table.

“Here,” she says, gently squeezing the brunette’s shoulder before taking her seat.

“Thank you.” Serena pours some custard over her mince pie, then passes Bernie the jug, their fingers brushing against each other. 

They eat in silence and Bernie assumes that Serena’s decided not to share the rest of her story, but when she starts to get up to clear the table the other woman grabs her wrist and says, “Let me finish my story, please.”

Bernie nods, bringing her other hand across to cover Serena’s hand. “If you want to.”

“I do. I was sleeping in the on-call room. Leah claimed afterwards that she’d knocked first, but I’ve always wondered. Anyway, I woke up suddenly to find her lying on top of me, kissing me.”

Bernie tightens her hold on Serena’s hand, trying not to squeeze too hard, and the brunette gives her a tremulous smile. “I shoved at her and yelled once I got my mouth free, and Donna, one of my best nurses, came rushing into the room and hauled Leah off me. She immediately began putting the blame on me, trying to make out that I’d sexually assaulted her, but Donna wasn’t inclined to believe her. She later told me that she’d often seen the predatory looks that Leah gave me and had consequently had her eye on her. She’d planned to come and tell me herself that a bed had become free in ITU, but Leah had overheard the phone call and had taken it upon herself to come and tell me.”

Bernie lifts Serena’s hand and presses her lips to her knuckles. “She thought she’d take advantage,” she says in a low voice.

Serena nods. “Donna called out to a porter who was just passing to get Security and they took Leah in charge until the head of HR and the CEO, Henrik Hanssen, arrived. There was an investigation and it turned out that Leah had tried this trick twice before with an older woman consultant, but the consultants concerned refused to press charges. I did not.”

“Good for you,” Bernie says emphatically. "I know that it can't be easy for you, but it's the right thing to do."

They sit in silence for a few moments, then Serena says, “Thank you for listening.” 

“You're welcome,” Bernie says. She gets up and clears the table, thinking that Serena’s experience with Leah means that she herself has no chance of pursuing the spark of something extra that she had believed that she'd felt developing between herself and Serena. 

“Bernie?”

She startles back to awareness of her surroundings with a grimace of annoyance for getting lost in her own thoughts. 

“Sorry, Serena,” she says, turning to see that the other woman is on her feet. 

“I was just going to say that I think I'll have an early night, if you don't mind.” 

“Of course not,” Bernie says immediately, feeling regret for the evening she's been planning. 

“Are you sure? Only you look like you're regretting something.” 

“Well, I am a little, but that's nothing for you to worry about. I'll help you upstairs.” 

They make their way to the staircase and Serena asks Bernie to retrieve her phone from the coffee table, which she does. 

“If you need anything this evening or during the night please text me,” Bernie says as Serena makes her way into the guest room. 

“Okay.”

“Even if it's the middle of the night,” Bernie says. 

“I promise,” Serena says firmly. 

“Good.” In a burst of spontaneity, Bernie wraps her arms around the brunette and gives her a tight hug. “Sleep well, Serena.” 

“Thank you.” Serena squeezes Bernie in response, then moves into the bedroom, and Bernie makes herself head back downstairs.

She really wishes that she hadn't found about Leah as she'd quite like to kill the other woman, Hippocratic Oath be damned. She knows all about predatory lesbians and finds them despicable, just as she finds other kinds of predatory people despicable. 

She returns to the kitchen and finishes clearing up from their meal, loading up the dishwasher and wiping down surfaces. Then she makes her way to the sitting room and decides that her plan to listen to a recording of _A Christmas Carol_ will not be as much fun on her own as she's sure it would have been with Serena beside her, so she grabs the television remote and picks a film to watch instead. Putting on her cordless headphones so that she won’t disturb Serena if she falls asleep early, she settles down to watch _Die Hard 2_.

It's almost eleven when Bernie makes her way upstairs to bed and she's already switched off the hallway light when she realises that she can hear Serena crying. She stands still, biting her lip, then she taps gently on the door and calls Serena’s name.

“Come in.” Serena sounds rather congested and Bernie wonders for how long she's been crying. 

“Hey,” she says quietly. 

“Bernie.” 

The bedside lamp comes on and she starts towards the bed without making a conscious decision to move. 

“Oh love,” she says, perching on the side of the bed and reaching down to brush Serena’s hair away from her reddened eyes. “How long have you been crying for up here?”

“A while,” Serena says. 

“C'mere,” Bernie says, drawing the brunette into her arms. “Is this because of Leah?” she asks.

“Talking about it stirred it up again.”

“I’m sorry she’s made you so miserable,” Bernie says, unconsciously pressing a kiss to Serena’s hair. “What can I do to help?”

“Would you – Never mind.”

“What? If I can do something to help you to feel better, I will.”

“Would you – Could you – That is, I’d like you to stay here with me.” 

“You want me to sleep next to you?” Bernie asks, feeling her heart beginning to thump harder.

“If – is it too much to ask?”

“No,” Bernie says instantly. “But, in the interests of full disclosure, I should tell you that I’m very attracted to you. Nothing will happen, I promise. I’m not one to try to take advantage of someone when they’re at a low ebb. But I thought you should know, given what happened with Leah.”

Serena huffs a laugh. “It’s okay, Bernie. I feel the same way about you.”

“Really?” Bernie pulls back a little to look down at Serena’s face.

“Really,” Serena says. 

“Okay. But would you mind coming and sharing my bed? I’ve got a special orthopaedic mattress on mine.”

“Of course,” Serena says.

“I know it’s mean of me to drag you out of your warm bed, but –”

“Bernie, it’s fine,” Serena says. “I understand.”

“Okay.” She gets off the bed, then draws the duvet back, taking note of the burgundy brushed cotton pyjamas that the brunette’s wearing, and trying very hard not to take notice of how curvaceous Serena’s body looks. “If it’s any consolation, there are a couple of hot water bottles in my bed right now.”

Serena chuckles weakly. “That is a consolation, actually.” She picks up her phone, then pauses and looks down at her foot. “Should I put that ankle support boot back on.”

“I think it would be better not to try walking without it for another day or two,” Bernie says, “even if your ankle is less painful than before.” She kneels down and slides Serena’s foot into the boot, tightening the straps to securely hold it in place. Then she passes over the walking stick and Serena steps away from the bed. Bernie pulls the bedding up so that it’s vaguely tidy, then leads the way out of the guestroom and down the short hallway to her own room.

“I guess I can tell on which side you sleep,” Serena says, sounding more like her usual self now.

Bernie chuckles softly. “I expect so.” There’s a neat stack of journals on the nightstand on the left, plus two novels atop the pile. Her reading glasses are next to an empty glass, which she’ll fill with water shortly.

“I didn’t know you wore reading glasses,” Serena observes as Bernie guides her to the right side of the bed.

“I don’t always,” she says. “It just depends how tired my eyes are.” 

She folds down the bedding, then Serena sits on the side of the bed and Bernie takes the support boot off her foot. “Is there anything I can get you?”

Serena shakes her head. “No, thank you.”

“Okay. Make yourself comfortable while I use the ensuite.”

Bernie starts to move away but Serena catches hold of her wrist and tugs gently. She gives the brunette a curious look and Serena blushes prettily. “Will you kiss me, please?”

She bites back the urge to ask Serena if she’s sure, then leans down and braces herself on the headboard with her left hand while cupping the back of Serena’s neck with her right hand. The kiss is soft and exploratory, and ends far sooner than Bernie would like, but it still ignites a flame of desire inside the blonde that she knows will be hard to put out.

“Thank you,” Serena says softly when Bernie moves back.

“It was my pleasure,” she says honestly.

“Mine too,” Serena says.

“Good.”

Bernie moves away from the bed and this time Serena lets her go, swinging her legs up and around to slide under the duvet as Bernie rounds the foot of the bed and grabs her pyjamas before disappearing into the ensuite. She decides to take a quick shower in order to cool her ardour: she might have years of experience of sublimating her body’s needs while working, but she still thinks it’d be wise to cool down before she gets into bed with the woman for whom she’s fallen harder than she’d ever have imagined herself falling for anyone.

After the shower she dries off, pulls on her pyjamas (darker blue flannel with a thin white check), then cleans her teeth and uses the facilities. She washes her hands, then switches out the light and moves into her room. Serena has settled herself with the duvet pulled up to her chin and she looks frankly adorable.

“Okay?” Bernie asks, switching on the lamp on her nightstand, before moving to turn off the ceiling light.

“Yes, thank you. I feel just as cosy and warm as I did in the guest room.”

“Good.” Bernie slides under the bedding, then switches out the light. “Goodnight, Serena.”

“Goodnight, Bernie.” Serena reaches out to clasp her hand and she doesn’t hesitate to shift towards the middle of the bed, then slide an arm under Serena and draw her close so that they’re cuddled up together, the brunette’s head resting on Bernie’s shoulder.

“I’ve got you,” she whispers, pressing a kiss to Serena’s temple.

“Thank you.”

Bernie’s asleep within moments of Serena’s breathing evening out into sleep.


	3. it is the time for home.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas Day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've made it this far, congratulations. I hope you enjoy the rest of it!

When Bernie first wakes on Christmas morning she feels toasty warm and thoroughly confused by the gradual awareness that there’s someone else in her bed. And then she remembers coming upstairs the night before and hearing Serena crying, and how the brunette had asked her to share her bed, and that they had each confessed to feeling attracted to the other woman.

_Well, that was unexpected_ , she thinks. Then she registers what woke her up, and she carefully eases herself free of Serena’s grip, before sliding out of bed and moving into the ensuite. She’s shivering by the time she comes out of the bathroom and she takes a quick glance out of the window to see that even more snow has fallen overnight. 

“Bernie?” Serena’s voice is thick with sleep and charmingly raspy. 

She drops the corner of the curtain and moves back to the bed. “Did I wake you? Sorry.”

“You didn’t,” Serena says. “Are you okay?”

“Mmhmm. Just had to use the bathroom and then I was peeking out at the snow.” She checks the time on her phone and sees it’s barely six o’clock. “I’m just going to go and knock the central heating on. Can I get you anything while I’m out of bed?”

“No,” Serena says. “Come back soon?”

Bernie chuckles softly. “Of course,” she says and leans down to give Serena a closed mouth kiss, then she grabs her bathrobe from the chair it’s draped over and tugs it on before she hurries along the hallway to the linen cupboard where the central heating boiler is, and quickly fiddles with the clock so that the central heating will come on now rather than at 7am. She nips back into her room, shedding the bathrobe in an untidy heap on the floor before sliding back into bed.

“God, cold toes!” Serena exclaims, sounding more awake as Bernie’s cold feet brush against her own.

“Sorry, sorry,” Bernie says, twitching her feet away.

“It’s fine,” Serena says reassuringly. She slides her own feet over Bernie’s, rubbing them briskly together. 

“You’re a proper furnace, aren’t you?” Bernie observes, nuzzling her nose against Serena’s in lieu of kissing her since they’ve not cleaned their teeth yet.

“Yeah, I’ve been running hot for a few years now, symptom of the menopause.”

“Ah. I don’t seem to have had many hot flushes myself.”

“You’re very lucky.”

“I know.” Serena slides her arms around Bernie, drawing her closer. “Merry Christmas, Bernie.”

“Merry Christmas, Serena.”

They snuggle close and soon fall asleep again, dozing comfortably until it’s Serena’s turn to wake needing the facilities. When she hobbles back out of the bathroom, Bernie’s pulling on her bathrobe, which earns her a raised eyebrow. 

“I’m going to get some coffee,” she explains. “Do you want something to eat?”

“Yes, please.”

“Pain au chocolat?” Bernie suggests with a grin.

“You’re spoiling me, Major.”

“Well, it is Christmas. You deserve breakfast in bed.”

Serena chuckles. “That would be lovely, thank you.”

“Back shortly,” she promises, then makes her way downstairs.

She feeds Smokey, then puts the coffeemaker on, before grabbing two pain au chocolat from the pantry and popping them into the oven to warm through. After that she goes into the sitting room and grabs the two gifts from Serena in the red metallic paper and the two that she’d bought and had wrapped while she was in town the day before. She pops all four into a bag, which she slings over the back of the chair until she’s ready to carry the tray upstairs. She looks in the fridge and smiles, then grabs several items and pops them into a bowl, before adding it and two spoons, plus a pot of honey to the tray. Eventually the tray is loaded with all their breakfast items, so she grabs the bag of gifts and pulls its strap over her shoulder, then she picks up the tray and carries it very carefully up the stairs. 

Serena is sitting up in bed and her face lights up when Bernie walks through the door into her room.

“I’m just going to clean my teeth,” Bernie tells her, resting the tray over Serena’s lap and leaving the bag of gifts on the foot of the bed.

“Okay.”

Bernie slips into the ensuite and cleans her teeth and washes her face, then she takes off her bathrobe and hangs it on the hook on the back of the bathroom door. Returning to her room, she finds Serena has taken out the gifts and has them piled up on their nightstands, Bernie’s look dazzling in red and Serena’s look even more dazzling in metallic gold paper.

“Thank you for the gifts,” Serena says as Bernie slides back into bed and rests her back against the pillows that Serena’s thoughtfully piled up against the headboard. “You didn’t have to get me anything, though. Your hospitality is a gift.”

“As if I wouldn’t get you something to unwrap,” Bernie says a little scornfully.

“Well, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” 

They eat their pastries and drink their coffee in a companionable silence, then they share the honey drizzled bowl of fruit that Bernie brought with her. Once they’ve eaten, Bernie puts the tray on top of the chest of drawers, then she and Serena take it in turns to open their gifts. 

Serena laughs when she opens her first one to find a pair of walking shoes with a pair of thick walking socks tucked into each shoe.” Thank you,” she says, leaning in to press a kiss to Bernie’s cheek, then she opens the second gift to find two cashmere scarves, one black and one a bold red that’s almost the colour of Shiraz.

“Thank you, Bernie, these are wonderful gifts.”

“You’re welcome,” the blonde says with a smile. 

Bernie’s gifts from Serena are a paperback copy of a book called _An Expert in Murder_ by Nicola Upson and she learns from the blurb on the back that the protagonist of the book is a fictionalised version of Josephine Tey, the Golden Age of Detective Fiction author they both like, and an Inspector Morse board game.

“That one’s for two players,” Serena tells her. “Although you can play it with up to six people.”

“Oh good. I’ll be able to play it with Cam and Charlie the next time they visit, as well as playing it with you while you’re here.”

“That’s what I thought,” Serena agrees.

“Thank you, Serena. I love your gifts.”

“You’re welcome.”

They remain in bed for another hour, Bernie reading aloud to Serena from her new book, then they get dressed and make their way downstairs where Bernie settles Serena on the sofa again, then she goes to load up the dishwasher and make them further mugs of coffee. She sets some gingerbread people, mince pies, shortbread, and Christmas cake onto two plates, then grabs a couple of napkins, before carrying the coffee and snacks into the sitting room, Smokey following close at her heels.

Bernie resumes reading aloud to Serena while classical music plays quietly in the background, and they spend a very pleasant morning snuggled up on the sofa, and if Bernie occasionally pauses in her reading in order to trade kisses with Serena, the brunette makes no objections. 

Eventually, though, it’s time to prepare their lunch, and Serena insists on assisting, so Bernie gets her to sit at the kitchen table to start preparing the carrots, parsnips, and potatoes to go into the oven while Bernie prepares the turkey breasts. She turns on the portable radio that sits on the windowsill and Christmas music fills the air. 

Bernie washes her hands before she sits opposite Serena at the kitchen table. She horizontally slices halfway through the turkey breasts, then folds it back like opening a book before filling the gap with a cranberry flavoured soft cheese paste that she’d prepared the previous evening. After that she folds the flap of turkey back over the paste, then wraps the turkey breasts around with rashers of bacon, before setting them on a baking tray.

Soon everything’s prepared and Bernie gets the turkey breasts and the potatoes for roasting into the preheated oven. Then she makes up the sage and onion stuffing into balls, ready to go into the oven later.

“You don’t make your stuffing from scratch?” Serena asks.

Bernie snorts. “No. As my son, Cam, likes to say, ‘Life’s too short for that shit’. Mind, I usually tell him off for saying it.”

Serena laughs. “He has a point, though.”

“He does.” Bernie washes her hands again, then says, “That’s everything done for now. Let’s go and sit in the comfy seats.”

Serena smiles up at her and Bernie can’t resist leaning down to press a soft, tender kiss to her mouth. Then she helps the brunette up from her chair and they return to the sitting room, where Bernie resumes reading her book aloud.

When they enter the kitchen to eat Serena expresses surprise at the sight of the table. “Somehow I didn’t have you down as the sort to own table linen.”

Bernie smirks. “It’s inherited from my late mother, and her mother before her, in fact. It was Granny Annie who taught me how to make napkin animals and the like, and although it’s been quite a few years since I last made one, I haven’t lost the knack, apparently.”

“I’m very impressed,” Serena says, surveying the kitchen table which is laid with a heavy ivory-coloured linen tablecloth that has Christmas trees and reindeer embroidered along the hems. At each of their place settings is a linen napkin, one green and one red, folded into the shape of a Christmas tree with a neat star made of ribbon pinned at the crown of the tree. In the middle of the table, to the left and right of the centre spot, are two small ivy and pinecone wreaths with fat white candles in the middle.

“Thank you,” Bernie says, giving her a shy, pleased smile. “I wanted to make the effort since you’re here, too.”

“I suppose you wouldn’t have bothered otherwise?” Serena says with a teasing lilt to her voice.

She snorts. “If I’d been on my own, as anticipated, I’d have taken my meal into the sitting room on a tray and eaten it in front of a film.”

Serena laughs and takes the seat that Bernie urges her to, then watches as the blonde sets out their pre-warmed plates, then proceeds to load them up with a turkey breast apiece, then generous portions of roast vegetables and stuffing balls. 

“Help yourself to gravy,” Bernie says, placing the gravy boat to the side of Serena’s place setting, before she pours them both a glass of Shiraz, then takes her own seat.

“Thank you.”

Their combined efforts with the food have paid off very well, Bernie thinks as they begin to eat, and she can’t help wondering what it would be like to cook with Serena every day. She mentally scolds herself for getting ahead of herself and tries not to think about how much she’ll miss Serena when she leaves.

After they’ve finished eating, Bernie clears the table and loads up the dishwasher, and while Serena washes up the saucepans, she carefully puts away the table decorations, then puts the tablecloth into the washing machine on the delicate cycle. The napkins will go into the next regular laundry load, but it’s better to do the tablecloth straight away.

“Time for the traditional post-turkey nap on the sofa, I think,” Bernie says, and Serena chuckles as she precedes the blonde out of the kitchen.

“I thought we might have a go at that Inspector Morse game,” she says. “But if you want to nap, don’t let me stop you.”

“You’re a harsh taskmaster, Campbell,” Bernie says.

“And you’re easily persuaded, Wolfe.”

“I am when it comes to you,” she answers honestly.

Serena stops and turns to look at her. “We hardly know each other,” she murmurs.

“I know,” Bernie says and steps in close, then slides her arms around her. “And yet I feel like I’ve known you forever.”

“Oh.” Serena buries her face in the crook of Bernie’s neck. “I thought that was just me.”

“No.” She tightens her hold on Serena and they simply stand there until Smokey comes out of the sitting room and rubs herself around their legs.

Serena sits on the sofa and opens up the Inspector Morse game while Bernie goes to the stereo and puts on some music. She opts for something that’s not seasonal this time, then she settles beside Serena and they read through the game’s instructions before they begin to play.

After an hour Bernie makes them a pot of tea and after consultation, Serena agrees to try the winter spice tea that Charlie bought for her, which is flavoured with cinnamon, lime, blackberry, orange, and cloves. She brings some shortbread and gingerbread people as well, in case they want a snack later.

“I swear I’m going to go home twice my normal size thanks to your wonderful cooking,” Serena says when she sees the plate of snacks.

“Oh, well, in that case, I’ll keep them for myself,” Bernie teases, reaching for the plate. Serena slaps her hand away with a glare that makes her chuckle.

“I didn’t say I wasn’t going to eat them,” she says and reaches for a gingerbread person iced with a red Santa hat and a green scarf. 

“The irony is that I wasn’t much of a cook until my enforced retirement,” Bernie tells her. “I never really made the time to become a good cook while I was serving. But after I moved down here and I had so much time on my hands, I decided I should at least make the effort to cook properly for myself rather than living on takeaways. I didn’t start baking cakes and pies at first, but then I thought it would be fun to try.”

“Well, I’m glad that you did,” Serena says, munching on her gingerbread Santa. 

“I’m glad that you’re enjoying it.” 

They drink their tea in a companionable silence and it’s only when Bernie’s finished hers that she dares to broach the question that’s been on her mind since the night before.

“Would you like to stay with me until the New Year, rather than going back to Holby once your ankle’s healed?”

“I would love to,” Serena says promptly, “but I have to be back at work on the 28th.”

“Oh.” Bernie feels her heart sink at this news. She supposes it had been foolish to think that Serena would be able to stay, given she has a job and a life in Holby.

Serena must sense her disappointment because she clasps Bernie’s arm and rubs her hand up and down it. “I really would like to stay,” she says.

“It’s fine, Serena. I understand. Of course I do. You have a job and a family in Holby.”

“I do,” she agrees. “But, if you recall, when we first met I mentioned that I was thinking of retiring down here.”

“I do remember,” Bernie says immediately. “You were attempting to go and look at the old McCready place.”

Serena chuckles. “Exactly. I need to talk to Henrik, the hospital’s CEO, and discuss the issue in more detail, but I do want to retire sooner rather than later. That business with the F1 has rather soured me on Holby.”

“Understandable,” Bernie says, lifting her arm and wrapping it around the brunette’s shoulders.

“But I’d like to come down for the New Year, if you could bear to have me?”

“I could bear that very easily,” Bernie says. “So long as you can bear to meet my children.”

“Ah, yes, you did say they’d be visiting you for a few days. Where does Cameron sleep since you only have the one guest room?”

“Here,” Bernie says, patting the sofa. “This is a high quality sofa bed.”

“So I’d be sharing your room if I came for the New Year?”

“You would. Is that okay?”

“It’s very okay,” Serena says.

“Okay then. Which days are you working over the New Year?”

“I finish on December 30th and I have to be back on January 3rd.”

“What about Jason and Elinor?”

“Jason is at Greta’s parents for the whole of the Christmas and New Year break, just as Elinor’s with her father and his foetus of a wife for the same period.”

Bernie laughs at the scorn in Serena’s voice as she says this and after a moment the brunette laughs too.

“Why don’t I come and pick you up from Holby?” Bernie suggests once she’s caught her breath again. “That way if the weather’s still poor you won’t have to worry about getting here.”

“That would be wonderful, thank you.”

“No problem. In fact, I can collect you, Cam, and Charlie all at the same time, and I’ll drive you all back to Holby on the 2nd.”

“What if your children don’t like me?” Serena asks.

“There’s no reason why they shouldn’t like you,” Bernie says, “you’re very personable and very charming. And they’ve been urging me to ‘get back out there’ and date women.”

Serena swallows, then nods. “Okay.”

“Good. Now, how about another game with Morse, and then I’ll make us some supper.”

“Sounds good.”

“Do you want another drink?”

“Not at the moment, thank you.”

“Okay.”

They settle down to play another game, then Bernie makes them supper of hearty vegetable soup and thick slices of lightly toasted bread.

“I thought we might listen to _A Christmas Carol_ this evening,” Bernie says. “If you’d like to, of course.”

Serena nods, her mouth full of soup. “That sounds good. Who’s in it?”

“Sir Derek Jacobi is Dickens, Kenneth Cranham is Ebenezer Scrooge, Roger Allam is Jacob Marley, and Brendan Coyle, Miriam Margolyes, and Tim Mcinnerny are the Ghosts.”

“That sounds very good.” Serena eats some of her toasted bread, then asks, “Is that what you were planning on doing last night?”

Bernie nods. “It’s fine though.” She shrugs. “Charlie bought it for me the first Christmas I was home for good and the three of us listened to it on Christmas Eve after dinner. It became a new tradition, even though they haven’t been with me every Christmas Eve, to listen to it.”

“Well, I’m sorry I broke your tradition.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Bernie says earnestly. “Today will do just as well.”

“Okay.”

After supper is eaten and cleared away they settle themselves in the sitting room again and Bernie puts the CD in the stereo, then she turns out the light so that the room is lit only by the lights on the Christmas tree and three candles that are placed at intervals along the mantelpiece.

“Is this okay?” she asks Serena as she takes a seat beside the other woman.

“It’s very cosy,” the brunette says as Bernie spreads her tartan blanket over their laps.

“I should warn you,” she says, grabbing the remote to start the CD, “that it’s three and a half hours long.”

Serena chuckles. “I’ll try to stay awake.”

“Okay.” Bernie presses play, then wraps her arm around Serena and the brunette immediately snuggles into her.

She can’t help thinking this might actually be the best Christmas she’s ever had, even better than the first one she had with Cam and Charlie after she came home from Mogadishu. She wonders if she should feel guilty for feeling this way, then dismisses the idea. Serena is a wonderful person, and she enjoys spending time in her company (and kissing her); she thinks that she’s incredibly lucky to have met such a woman. She’s not going to rush into a more intimate relationship, but their sexual chemistry is undeniable, and she has a good feeling about being with her.

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter titles from Edith Sitwell:
> 
> _“Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home.”_


End file.
